Sugar Mint
by le stylo
Summary: You are reminded of the beginning of your relationship with Camus as you go on a date with him during winter. He is like Sugar and mint. Camus x Reader


Sugar Mint

5:00 Am. You are up very early. Was it because of excitement or an annoying kind of anxiety that was unique to dating someone like Camus? You didn't know and really couldn't care as you shoveled through your closet and drawers to prepare an outfit before getting into the bath. The scent of vanilla with a hint of lavender is soothing, allowing the rapid thoughts to slow. You've been dating for a year and appreciated that he has been patient with you although his 'jokes' about punctuality got on your nerves. Today, was the day that he would eat his words. The plan was to meet at 8 am so that you could catch brunch right on time at one of his favorite breakfast spots.

Suddenly it was impossible to relax in the tub. The warm water and the steam was supposed to help. Instead, now, it somehow encouraged rumination. A year, huh? You think back and can't even pin point how you got yourself into this mess. Yes, it was a mess, a mess of nothing but confusion. How did _you_ of all people become this guy's girlfriend? What was _his_ damage? Camus is literally someone of high status. Not just an idol. Freakin' Royalty. Not to mention he is a very blunt, rude, demanding two-faced neat freak. Yet he is also undeniably handsome, sophisticated, considerate, generous... Oh no… are the occasional good things outweighing his typical behavior? You shake your head at that thought and drain the tub as you stand.

You twirl in front of your full body mirror and adjust your clothes as you see fit. Then you frown. Too bad it is winter. You hate the cold. Not only that, but the weather does some weird things to your body…

In the middle of speaking Camus stopped, leaning in close to your face. His eyes narrowed introspectively. The crimson on your nose deepened as his touched yours. Then…

"How curious," the platinum blonde muttered, slowly running his thumb over your bottom lip.

You stared at him, heart beating wildly.

"Your lips. They're rough and chapped," he observed coolly, before withdrawing.

Embarrassed you covered your face and then try to argue that your lips are sensitive to the cold. After that you didn't even want to look at flawless Camus. What's the guy's deal? It's not like everyone could be like him, always perfect, always shining. Ever since then you became conscious of your lips.

At the memory you ground your teeth. You feel your lips. They're ok. For now. But there's no telling what would become of them while you were out. With that in mind, you lick your lips and apply some sugar scrub. Before you know it, you find yourself playing with the damn thing.

As you walk towards the meeting spot, you look at your watch. 7:30. Yes! This is good time. More than good time. His rule was to be at least fifteen minutes early. But half an hour early that's impressive! The moment of triumph doesn't last long when you see Camus come into view. He's probably been here for an hour, you thought bitterly. Or being Camus maybe even earlier. As if sensing you he turns and you notice his ice blue eyes regard you bottom up. He mentions nothing of time, instead he remarks on your outfit.

"You look quite girlish."

You ignore the comment and greet him normally. Without much words after you begin to walk together. After a while he stops and he reaches over towards your face. You back up in response.

"What's wrong with your lips?" He asked, "They look rougher than usual."

Your eyes widen with realization. While playing around with the sugar scrub, you must have left some residue on your lips.

"Hah, well since the last time you said something about my lips, I decided why not make it rough on purpose," You joked with him as you wiped some of the sugar off of the corners of your mouth.

The Earl raised an eyebrow.

"It's just sugar," you admonished while he continued to stare.

Those words must have turned some kind of switch in him. Before you knew it, you felt his lips and his tongue slide on your lips. It's been a year but he has never done anything like that. It made you feel dizzy and wish it lasted a little longer. But you couldn't help but notice that he pulled back quickly.

"There's mint." He said lowly.

"Eh?"

Still lost in the sensation you felt, it took a while for you to realize the Camus' disappointment. A memory slowly flooded into your mind. It was one of the earlier dates. You both went out for simple ice cream and you were in a mint chocolate mood. You tried to offer some to the platinum blonde. He refused adamantly and stated that the mint threw off the flavor. Suddenly, it dawned on you. When he said that, Camus didn't mean just chocolate. He didn't like the combination mint with his sweets.

"S-Sorry…" You said slowly and barely above a whisper.

"Well, your lips aren't rough… or cracked," He stated plainly, trying to avoid the conflict and also retracting what he had said a year back.

You break out into a giggle.

"It's a little ironic that you don't like mint with sweets."

"And why is that?"

"It reminds me of you…" You say this looking down, embarrassed. There's no way you could look at him while saying such things. When he doesn't say anything in response, you continue.

"You are like mint… cool and refreshing and you like sweet things—you can be sweet too, when you want to."

W-What was that just now? Now you really can't look at him. After this, you refuse to look up at him. You are frozen in place. You want to just evaporate on the spot.

"In that case…" You hear him say as he lifts up your face with a finger. But he says nothing more as his lips captured yours.


End file.
